


Snitchnip

by orphan_account



Series: Jegulus Fest [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anger, Cheating, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hogwarts Era, Kissing, M/M, Quidditch match, shouting, slytherin v gryffindor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 07:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6695770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regulus thinks he's doing his boyfriend a favour--but James is less than pleased by what the Slytherin considers a favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snitchnip

**Author's Note:**

> So I know that if a non-seeker catches a snitch the other team wins, so just bear with me in this as I blatantly ignore most of canon rules.

James gripped his broom, grateful for the charm on his gloves because there was no way he’d have a proper grip on anything in this slop. It was pissing rain, had been for the last six days, and the storm was raging during the match. He half wanted to blame Slytherin for trying to sabotage them, but he was fairly sure they wouldn’t have actively tried to play like this.

Cheating—sure. They’d already knocked out Gryffindor’s seeker, leaving them with Jover who was their reserve, but total shite—especially in this weather. Through his goggles, as James clutched the Quaffle close to his chest, he caught sight of Black hovering above him. Almost taunting him. His hair was plastered across his forehead, his cloak flailing out behind. His sharp, grey eyes were darting round the pitch, but in a lazy manner because he knew. He bloody-well knew he wasn’t going to have to even try. Not with Longbottom out.

James stamped down on his fury, his frustration. Losing this game wouldn’t mean they’d lost a chance at the cup, but James wanted to sweep the season, leave Hogwarts undefeated—to have something to boast about when scouts came to watch him.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

Gryffindor was only up by seventy-five, which meant unless he could score…

“YES!” He threw the Quaffle hard, bypassing Rosier and it sailed through. Another ten points dinged.

It still wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fucking enough, because he knew Regulus had seen the fucking snitch and it was too bloody late for him.

James sailed through the rain, bypassing his teammates, giving them his Captain’s Nod letting them know in spite of their shit luck, he was proud of them. And that was true—he was. They were doing their best.

Beaters were on point, chasers never leaving sight of the Quaffle. Jover was hovering, not tailing Regulus like he ought to have been doing because Regulus was a vicious seeker, more relentless than James was on the pitch. At least in some ways.

As Regulus zoomed past Jover, having spotted the snitch, and he gave James an almost taunting look. Something in James snapped. It was pointless, for all that he faffed round with a snitch outside of the Pitch, he was no seeker. But he would be damned if he let Gryffindor go on without a fight.

He could see it, the small, flitting ball racing past fat raindrops, skating just outside of Regulus’ gloves.

With an overly-determined look on his face, James pushed his broom forward, as hard, as fast as it could go and he came nose-to-nose with the Slytherin. He glanced over, Regulus looking almost surprised. Almost. His hand stretched, and he was close.

Too fucking close.

And then suddenly Regulus had fallen back. Not a lot. Just a fraction, and James had been too startled to realise what was happening—and the next thing he knew his fist had curled round the tiny ball and the whistle was blown.

The commentator was screaming about the win, Slytherins screaming about how the match was invalid because James had caught the snitch instead of Jover.

But eventually Hooch gave her ruling—Gryffindor won, and it was over.

James dropped to the ground, meeting the Slytherin Captain’s long, angry gaze for a while, listening as he barked at his team to get the fuck in the showers and he would be talking to them later. “Especially you, Black. Don’t think you’re not going to pay for letting Potter best you.”

James was smug for all of nine seconds, before he realised what happened. Because the truth was, there was no way he should have caught the damned thing. Regulus was far too good. And James knew. Because Regulus knew what James had wanted so desperately he could taste it.

Regulus had thrown the match.

Regulus. 

Regulus had thrown the fucking match.

By the time James could bring himself to move, his rage was palpable, tangible, coursing through every limb. He bypassed the Gryffindor changing rooms, straight into Slytherin without a care if any of them were still there. The one who mattered still was, and James was not going to stand for it.

How dare that little snake. How dare he.

The door banged open, and James’ furious gaze locked onto Regulus who was only half-dressed, boxers and socks, stood near the kit lockers, arms crossed over his pale, thin chest. He lifted his head defiantly.

“Come to boast?”

“I’ve come to kick your arse,” James growled, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him hard against the locker. Regulus let out an oomph, but it was mostly reactionary. James would never handle him hard enough to hurt. “How dare you?”

Regulus blinked, attempting—and failing—to look innocent. “I’ve no idea what you’re on about.”

James clenched his jaw, then released it. 

Then clenched.

Then released.

“Yes, you do,” he said, his voice low, and Regulus actually looked scared because James could tell a small piece of the sixth year actually expected James would be happy about this. That he would be _grateful_.

“I thought you’d be fucking well-pleased with yourself,” Regulus said, a tremor in his voice only James could hear. “You won. You fucking won your stupid match and you…”

James shoved his shoulder again, crowding right into his space, their noses too close together for comfort. “You threw the match.”

Regulus blinked, lifted his chin a bit higher, and didn’t deny it. “What does it matter?”

“Because I wanted to win!” James roared, and when he stepped back is when Regulus actually looked truly frightened, and maybe a little hurt.

“You did win!”

“But I wouldn’t have!” James slammed his fist down onto his thigh, grinding his teeth. “I don’t want to win just for the sake of fucking winning, Black.”

Regulus’ cheeks went pink at the sound of his surname. “You wanted to win every match. What does it matter how…?”

“Because it’s not real if I can’t actually lead my team to victory. Which is the fundamental difference between us,” James said, maybe a little cruelly, and he instantly regretted it when Regulus looked away, his mouth drawing into a straight line. But it was true. It was a fundamental difference. Because if the situation had been reversed and James had thrown a match so Regulus could claim victory, the Slytherin would have been as pleased as he expected James to be.

In that moment, James’ frustration melted into something softer. Because in spite of his anger, of having that moment of triumph robbed from him in the worst way he could imagine, Regulus had done that for him. Just for him.

Out of love, he knew. And not because he had to interpret the actions, but because before the match Regulus had dragged him behind a tapestry and kissed him so soft, so slow, and whispered, “I want to kick your arse on the pitch, but mostly I want to see that victorious smile on your face. It’s when you’re the most beautiful.”

James felt his face heat up at the memory, and he turned back to his boyfriend. “I’m sorry I shouted.”

Regulus turned back, his cheeks still splotchy, his eyes full of uncertainty, and James hated that he put that look there. His fists uncurled, and he took steps back into Regulus’ personal space, but this time with a gentle expression.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Regulus swallowed and looked up at James, searching for the sincerity he knew was there, but feared would be gone one day because he was Regulus. He was a Black, and a Slytherin, and many things James stood against. But he nodded anyway, and let James pushed him—kinder this time—back into the lockers, and cup his face.

“I know what you were trying to do.”

“I just thought…” Regulus’ voice faltered and he unconsciously leant his head into James’ palm. “You really wanted to win.”

James brought his face in close to Regulus, then pressed a small kiss to the tip of his nose, delighting in the deeper blush it brought to the Seeker’s cheeks. “Yes, I did want to win. Properly. I didn’t think I was going to best you out there, you know. I just couldn’t let the game finish without trying.”

Regulus let out a small breath, then stood up high on his toes and buried his face in James’ neck. He let out a small, huffing laugh as James drew his arms round him and pulled him tight. “Well, you know if it had been a professional game Slytherin would have won, right? Snitchnip.”

“I know,” James said with a laugh. “I didn’t even think Hooch would side with us.”

Regulus pulled back and made a show of rolling his eyes. “She always sides with _you_.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” James asked, but he was interrupted them by a soft kiss. Regulus closed the distance between them, burying his fingers in James’ wet, wild hair, and tugging him closer. James moaned, pushing Regulus back harder against the lockers, and his eyes close tight shut.

“It means,” Regulus spoke against his lips, “she probably sees what I do, every time I have to look at you in that stupid kit.”

“That’s pervy as hell, Reg,” James said with a laugh, not moving his lips back away from his boyfriend’s mouth. “I don’t want to think about that when I’m snogging your face off.”

Regulus laughed and kissed James again gently. “Look, I really am sorry. I just know how much sweeping this year means to you. You’re going to go off to be some amazing, professional player and I’m not. So I just…I just wanted you to have this.”

James trailed his hand down Regulus’ arm, twinning their fingers together lightly, and sighed. “Can you just have been a bastard for like ten more minutes so I could have carried on being rude and angry?”

Regulus rolled his eyes again. “That wouldn’t have been very productive.”

“How’s that?” James challenged.

Regulus eyes go a bit dark, and he smirks. “Because we’re alone. With showers. And we could both do with a good…washing.”

James swallows thickly, then smirks as he lets the Slytherin drag him into the steamy room.


End file.
